


Spiders, Death and Deadpool

by GoatsLikeHummus



Series: Eh, what could go wrong? [1]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, aunt may is not nice, but she's only in the first chapter so meh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 15:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14500428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatsLikeHummus/pseuds/GoatsLikeHummus
Summary: It’s the beginning of the end. Peter is going through a change far worse than puberty, Hela is alive and on Earth and Wade is just... being Wade.‘Oh shit.’‘Oh shit indeed.’





	1. Metamorphosis

His mind is a haze, his heart beat in sync with the constant wrong _wrong wrong_ that echoes throughout his scull. Something is _wrong_ , oh god its _wrong_ and nothing stops it and he needs to find _safe_. But what is _safe_? His mind can’t comprehend, his thoughts are disjointed. _Why why why- help- wrongwrongwrong- need safe- **webs!**_

In the dead of night, tucked away in the shadows of a large bridge, the spider spins his webs, hiding himself away inside of a cacoon.  
_Safe. Sleep_.

* * *

There is always a start, and there is always an end. It can be a minor thing, such as finally finishing a video game, something that gives birth to the feeling of accomplishment, of ‘I did it!’ It can, however, also be something hurtful, or saddening. Death is obvious and inevitable, but there are many other ways for things to end. 

When he looks back on the evens that are to come, Peter will realise that while the death of his Uncle Ben was the beginning of an end to what he once knew, it will be what creates the brand new start that follows. 

* * *

2 Weeks Prior

  
Peter scratches his wrist absentmindedly, partially due to nerves, and also because they itch. There aren’t any marks on his skin, and he hadn’t run into any trouble on his patrols the night before, so he isn’t all that concerned.

  
_It’ll go away._

  
He looks to his aunt, who is sitting across from him eating breakfast. ‘Uh...’ he starts, but stops himself from saying anything. Ever since aunt May had found out about him being Spider-Man, she’s been strange. It’s almost as though she’s distancing herself from him. But she’d approved of his activities as being the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider. Its confusing.

  
Aunt May spares him a glance before going back to eating. It feels strange, the way she has changed. But if Peter really thinks about it, it’s something that had been building up long before she found out about him. Something is going on.

  
‘Aunt May,’ Peter says, ‘is there... uhh... is anything wrong? I mean, did I do anything? Or is it about Spider-Man or...’

  
Peter can tell the instant his aunt closes off, which is as soon as the first few words leave his mouth. She stands up. ‘I’ll be late for work.’ She says, and while Peter can’t feel the irritation and anger May feels, his spidey sense certainly makes sure to tell him something is up. He notices her clenched fist.

  
Peter gives her an awkward wave as she leaves without bothering to say goodbye. 

* * *

It’s only when he arrives at school that it occurs to Peter that his aunt had wanted to hit him, and the thought stops him in his tracks. Nothing feels right, and the realisation well and truly hits home for Peter. Something is wrong, a change is coming. 

_But what?_

  
Peter feels sick, and it obviously shows because Ned asks him if he’s feeling alright.

  
‘I’m fine.’ Peter lies.

  
Ned doesn’t believe him. 

* * *

_I know having a super fast metabolism is part of the deal,_ Peter thinks, _but man this is just ridiculous!_

  
His appetite has increased tenfold in the last week or so, and as he swings from building to building the hunger pains in his stomach become more and more obvious.

  
It doesn’t help that he’s become more active with his patrols as Spider-Man, opting to keep a bit of distance between aunt May and himself. Its been eight days since his spidey sense went off with his aunt, and May seems to be becoming more and more agitated as the time goes by.

  
Maybe it’s because of all the food he’s been eating.

  
He stops by a park that he knows there will be a Hot Dog stand. The man behind the stand gives him a friendly greeting, giving a good discount for Spider-Man, who has helped him out from time to time. Peter thanks the man with a smile hidden behind his mask.

  
Once up high enough on one of the buildings of the city, Peter pulls up his mask just enough to reveal his mouth, and takes a bite of Hot Dog.

  
Its delicious. 

* * *

Six days later and Peter is feeling incredibly off. He wakes and the first thing he does is tear himself away from the covers on his bed in a hurry, the material scratches against his skin in a way that is _not right all wrong_. He feels strange and disorientated as he pulls a school shirt over his head, and quickly finds that the feeling of _wrongness_ comes back as the material rubs against his skin.

  
He shakes the feeling off, heading to the kitchen in search of the food his body now needs so much more of. He’d almost cleaned out the fridge the day before, but there should be enough food left for him to make it through to lunch. Oh, there’s a packet of chips in the pantry too.

  
As he munches away on the chips, May stares at him with her arms crossed. He doesn’t notice when she sighs and leaves the room. 

* * *

His mind slows down as the day progresses, becoming more and more sluggish and disjointed. School is over, and yet he can’t remember a single thing that happened throughout the day, other than _its not safe need safe._

  
He vaguely remembers telling Ned that he’ll be fine, and the next thing he knows he is standing on his own front door step. _Safe? Safe? Is it safe?_

  
Aunt May awaits him inside, arms crossed. ‘I’ve been doing some thinking,’ she says, ‘and you need to go.’

  
Peter stares at her, mind unable to process the words even though he can hear them clearly. _What?_ He tries to ask, but it comes out more of a ‘whu?’ Something is really, really wrong. He should call Mister Stark, yeah! He’d know what to do.

  
But Peter, for the life of him, can’t figure out how to make the call. All he wants is _safe_. But _safe_ should be here and it _isn’t_! What is wrong with him?

  
May steals herself. ‘I’m not going to put up with you anymore,’ she says in a tone reflecting her cold heart. She takes a deep breath, ‘Ben was the one that had wanted you, not me. So leave! Go to Stark, I’m sure he’ll take you in. But don’t you dare come back, I don’t want you. I never did.’

  
Peter still can’t understand most of it, but _I don’t want_ you rings loudly in his ears. He shakes his head in attempt to clear it. It works a little.

‘What? Aunt May- why?’ He asks, a tear falling from his eye.

  
May bangs her fist on the table, and Peter is filled with the feeling of _not safe not safe need safe._ He backs away from her, towards the door. She takes a deep breath.

  
‘LEAVE!’ May shouts. ‘I NEVER, EVER WANTED YOU HERE, SO JUST LEAVE ALREADY!

  
Spidey sense tingling, Peter hurries out of what was once his home. He once again thinks to call Mister Stark, the thought is gone as he is consumed by _find safe._

* * *

In the middle of the night, a lone figure stares up at the cacoon made of web.  
‘Hello, young one.’

 

 

 


	2. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a character with severe burns and slightly suicidal thoughts, though I tried my best not to describe either of these things in much detail... 
> 
> I feel the need to say that I don't know much about Norse Mythology, but I do know that some things in this chapter really aren't factually correct with said Mythology. I'm pretty much basing this off the Marvel movies, and Thor: Ragnarok in specific.

Hela has felt pain before. She is no stranger to it. During Odin’s conquest, back when she was younger and had wanted nothing more than to spread the wonders of Asgard throughout the universe, she suffered quite a few battle injuries. Those wounds made her stronger. They gave her strength and joy, for she was doing what she was born to do. She was causing _death_. 

But then she was locked away in Hel, betrayed by her father because of his foolish notion of peace. She rebelled against the king, and was punished fittingly for her crimes. It was then that Hela felt a new kind of pain- the pain of the mind, so much worse than the pain of the body.

  
And yet, nothing quite compares to the pain she is in now. Ragnarok burns Asgard, and she is trapped in its flames. Despite her best attempts, despite how strong she is, she can’t fight the flames of this monster. It burns at her skin, cooking her flesh as a normal fire would a mortal. She can feel it wrapping itself around the planet as she fights as hard as she can, but knows deep down that it is no use. She will die here, but she won’t go down without a fight.

  
Asgard explodes. 

* * *

When she wakes next, she is at first confused. She shouldn’t be alive and yet she is. Her burns still cause the pain that remind her of her defeat. She attempts to stand, but struggles to do so as she takes in her surroundings.

  
It’s air is similar to the planet she was on when she destroyed Mjolnir, though there are many tall buildings surrounding her now, rather than the open field.

  
Hela shivers. The chance that this is the planet that her brothers visit is very high, and she holds no doubt that in her current state she would be defeated rather quickly should the God of Thunder find her. She can’t die now, not after she has survived Ragnarok. 

  
She glances down at her body and cringes. The fire burnt away her clothes, and the burns cover her whole body, her healing slowly turning them into what will be more than a few gruesome scars. It will take time to heal. So first she needs a place to hide, and then recover her strength. 

* * *

Hela finds a decent enough place to lay low. There is a large bridge, with strange four-wheeled moving things going in either direction across it as a way to cross the river that flows beneath. She follows a pathway that leads under the bridge, arm holding onto the rail used to prevent people from falling into the water below. Where the bridge connects to land, there is a decent sized, yet not all that noticeable, space. Its dark, so it would be unlikely for anyone to notice her as she rests.

  
She can’t risk anyone of Asgard finding her should they arrive on the planet anytime soon. 

* * *

After a couple of days, Hela wakes up to the cold stinging against her skin. She inspects her injuries, relieved to find that they are healing rather well, if a bit slowly, but that’s to be expected. It isn’t enough, however, as her stomach decides to give her a reminder, telling her that she needs sustenance to keep her energy up given her current weakened state.

  
She stretches, searching for the power within her and deciding that she is strong enough should she have to fight or flee while attempting to find food.

  
After walking around for a bit under the sun and on unsteady legs, Hela begins to feel irritated. People are either pointing at her or turning away in disgust. They talk, too. She can’t understand much of what they’re saying, as ‘911’ and ‘Avengers’ are things she has not heard of. There is a recognisable tone of fear and in some cases, pity, in their voices.

  
It angers her that they feel fear due to her appearance, and even worse, some of them seem to be pitying her! But it doesn’t surprise her. Most of her hair has been burnt away and she’s covered from head to toe in the aftermath of Ragnarok. She should be dead, and to the mortals surrounding her she must look like a monster.

  
Hela supposes that’s fair, lots of people believe her to be a monster. They’re probably right. Oh well.

  
It doesn’t stop her from knocking out the first armed man in blue that stands in her way as she leaves a shop with a bag filled to the brim with food. She quickly realises that she is still too weak to call upon her power properly, and fleas the scene. But not before stealing the clothes of the brave soul that stood up to her.

* * *

After that she learns to be much more discrete, and after a couple more days she finds that she is able to form a dagger, and then a sword. Her body is still far too weak in comparison to what it once was, and she finds herself hoping that Thor doesn’t arrive too soon. She knows he will come and seek refuge here, and tell tales of her and her wickedness.

  
For some reason, that terrifies Hela.

  
She’s never been terrified before.

* * *

Things continue for another couple of weeks as they are, and Hela begins to feel the effects of not having a home to return to. Even in Hel, she had Fenrir. Now she has nothing, and loneliness feels as though it is consuming her. She lacks energy, despite making sure that she has what she needs to heal. When she first woke up on Earth she had wanted to live, but she can’t help but wonder what would have happened should Ragnarok have succeeded in killing her.

  
She stares at the roll of bandages in her hand, body taking her back to her new ‘home’ as her mind wanders elsewhere. Before she knows it she has returned from another successful trip to acquire supplies. She no longer wears the ‘police uniform’, as it drew too much attention to herself. Instead she wears a hooded jumper, an item that protects her from the chill of the night. Not that such a thing bothers her anyway. 

She pauses when she reaches the bridge, an instinct developed long ago in battle telling her to proceed with caution. Was it Thor? Or had one of these ‘Avengers’ found her? She should leave, but she doesn’t. Really, a large part of her no longer cares should she live or die.

  
She moves closer into her ‘home’ and pauses for a moment before letting out a small chuckle in amusement at the giant spider cacoon hanging from underneath the bridge, hidden away almost exactly where she prefers to sleep.

  
It seems as though she isn’t the only one who needed to find somewhere to hide away. How curious. 

  
‘Hello, young one.’

* * *

‘You know,’ she begins, ‘I was once a ruler, a conquer. A Goddess, even!’ She stares at her hands, covered in dirtied bandages in attempt to cover the burns hidden underneath. ‘And look at me now.’ She chuckles, though it sounds much more like a sound of anguish. ‘Hela, the Goddess of Death, weakened so!’ She doesn’t sob, but the sound that escapes her throat certainly sounds like one. ‘I just wanted to do father proud...’ She smiles at the cacoon. ‘I have the feeling that you understand. I wonder, who do you want to be proud of you?’

* * *

After that she continues to talk to the cacoon, and Hela knows the young spider within listens. The spider may be asleep- in the process of a metamorphosis, even- but it is still aware.

She tells tales of her conquests, and she can feel the disapproving feeling the young spider emits. She talks about Odin and her exile, and the young spiders unspoken ‘serves you right’ wraps around her like a blanket along with the foreign feeling of fondness. When she talks about Fenrir, and dares to show her grief in front of this being in front of her, the young spider comforts her when she needs it, and she can’t help imagining it smiling from inside its web on the rare occasion she tells a tale of happiness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Here comes Deadpool!


	3. Here comes Deadpool!

Hela is lightly sleeping when it happens.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?” A voice shouts, and the Goddess of Death is awake and alert with a sword in her hand. She narrows her eyes at the intruder and positions herself just so in a way that will protect the cacoon. The man takes notice of her. “Crap.”

“Who are you?” Hela says, and the man covered head to toe in red and black appears to be gaping at her.

“I… Err…”

“Speak, human.” She demands, and the man moves quickly, pulling out some form of Midgard weapon that she has had numerous experiences with since arriving on the planet. Hela is much faster however, and before the man can pull the trigger she slices his arms off.

The man laughs. “’Tis but a scratch!”

Hela raises an eyebrow. “Speak.” She pauses. “Or kneel.”

“Can I have my arms back?”

“No. Now answer me. Who. Are. You?”

She allows her power to flare.

“Hahaha.” The man is sweating nervously. “The names Wade- I mean Deadpool- I mean- crap- Stark isn’t paying me enough for this shit.”

Hela knocks Wade (Deadpool? She really doesn’t care which it is) to his knees, and the man lets out a giggle. “Who is Stark?” She asks. “And what are you doing here?” She pulls him up by the mask of his suit as he continues to giggle.

He ignores her questions. “Have we met before? You seem familiar. Did I-”

She grabs him by the throat. “I suggest you, mortal who ignores the rules of mortality, tread carefully for I am Hela, the Goddess of Death.” She smiles and shows far too many teeth. “And despite being immortal, do not think for a moment that you can truly escape my grasp.”

Wade makes a wheezing sound and once Hela is certain she can smell his fear, she lets him drop to the floor.

“Fuck.” Wade swears, rolling onto his back. “Stark _really_ didn’t pay me enough for this. ‘Go look for a kid’, he says. The only reason I agreed is because he was trying way too hard to pretend that said kid is _not_ Spidey! And what do I get? Freaking Death herself guarding a… a giant cacoon… made of spider webs…”

“You are here to take the young one away?”

Wade lifts his head up as Hela glances nervously at the cacoon. He sighs. “What’ll happen if I did?”

“Currently. He will die if he is moved.” It’s a lie and they both know it.

“Shit. Why is this my life?” Wade groans. “Alright, then I guess Stark doesn’t have to know about it.”

* * *

 

“What are these?” Hela asks.

Wade gasps in horror. “Have you never experienced the wonders of Tacos???”

“No, I have not.”

“We need to change that! Now eat!”

Hela sighs, but complies. After Wade hands her a Taco with his still regrowing hands she scoots closer to the cacoon, though she isn’t concerned about the other man’s intentions. Anymore. Maybe a little. Or a lot.

“I’ve decided.” Wade starts. “That this is way more fun than working for goody-two-shoes Tony Stark.”

“And I’ve decided that if you make one wrong move you are going to lose something very valuable.” Hela gestures to his crotch.

Wade gulps. “Yes, oh wonderful and all-powerful Goddess.”

Hela snorts, it’s a bit of a bitter sound. “I’m hardly all-powerful. Not anymore.”

“Aww, come on! You’d beat the crap out of Thor any day. Now eat the taco.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a bite, wrapper and all. “It’s nice.”

“You didn’t even unwrap it you monster!”

* * *

 

“Do you really think the young one is this Peter Parker you were hired to find?” Hela asks on the next day.

“Pretty sure it isn’t a coincidence that Spider-Man disappears, then this happens.” Wade says. “Stark wasn’t all that discreet, and he was also a bit too desperate. I mean, he’s hired every capable person there is. And then he hired me _too!_ ”

“And what is wrong with hiring you?”

“Don’t know if you’ve heard, but Deadpool is a big bad monster.”

“I suppose that makes three of us.” Hela says.

“Yeah, I gathered that you were a bit of a- wait, _three_?” Wade looks between Hela and the cacoon with growing comprehension. “Poor Spidey.” Something in the corner of Hela’s makeshift home catches Wade’s eye. “Ooooh is that a Zorro costume?”

“A what?”

* * *

 

It’s eleven days after Hela and Wade had their first encounter when it happens. Hela feels a slight shift in the cacoon as she tries on the black mask Wade had explained was part of the costume he had pointed out a few days prior. Quickly she pulls the mask over her face and gives the cacoon her full attention, whispering quiet reassurances to the being inside.

Wade watches on in excitement from a safe distance away as the cacoon begins to split down the middle, _something_ fighting its way out of the webs.

Hela moves back a few steps, and then a few more as the _something_ emerges from its cacoon.

Both Hela and Wade find their eyes moving up to look at the _something_ as it shifts around, breaths hitched in both anticipation and fear.

“Oh shit.” Wade curses under his breath in a pitiful attempt to remain silent.

“Oh shit indeed.” Hela replies, not even attempting to avoid detection. The giant spider in front of them turns at the noise. “We should run.”

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“Who is this Sherlock you speak of?”

“No time.” Wade says. “We run, now!”

So, they run. And as these things tend to be in any and all cliché things that exist in the world of clichés, the giant spider chases after them. Soon they find themselves on the bridge, pique hour traffic causing them to pause.

“No.” Hela says before Wade can even open his mouth to suggest anything.

“He’s the size of a car, he’ll be fine!”

“I’ve have witnessed roadkill before.”

“Right.” Wade turns around to face her, only to pale beneath his own mask.

“He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” Hela asks, and the sound of people screaming resounds throughout the area.

“Yup.”

Hela closes her eyes, and takes in the feeling of the spider- the young one- of Peter- behind her. “He’s afraid.” She says. “Everything is too loud and different. We need to take him somewhere secluded.”

“Let’s run then!”

* * *

 

It takes them all night of attempting to avoid the press, stopping Peter from grabbing some poor human for a snack, some highly deadly venom that took Wade out of the picture and an eternally viral video of a ‘Zorro cosplayer’ attempting to ‘slay a giant spider monster’ to get Peter to a quiet enough area.

Wade will have to explain viral videos to Hela at a later date.

Hela turns to Peter, the giant spider not ready to attack and yet not letting his guard down either. The Goddess of Death on the other hand, she lets her guard down completely.

The situation reminds her of Fenrir, and that gives her the will to do what must be done to the scared monster in front of her.

“Hello, young one.” She says, allowing a side she would never have allowed anyone to witness before. “You’ve grown so much, haven’t you?” Curiosity comes off the spider in waves. “And you’re scared, correct? Your mind must be so muddled, too. But don’t worry, I will be here with you. We will get through this.”

Peter moves close enough to Hela that she can reach out and touch the small layer of hair that coats his body, and gently strokes one of his eight legs while looking into his many eyes. Peter begins to relax under her touch, and as he does so something under his skin begins to move.

“Yes, that’s it.” Hela says. “Calm.” Peter begins to twitch and wither. “Be calm, young one. You are in safe hands.” The spider begins to shrink and shrink, a gruesome mess of limbs and flesh tearing itself apart and stitching itself back together in a way that is something akin to human.

Once the transformation ends Peter is panting and gasping for air, eyes unfocused and still completely inhumane. Hela smiles and gently combs a hand through Peter’s messy hair. It may completely ruin her reputation, but this Peter Parker person well and truly is her young one.

“Aww, does the cold-hearted Goddess of Death have a soft spot for Spidey?”

Peter hisses at Wade, showing off fangs bared and dripping with venom. Wade ignores him.

“Now that that’s over, who wants Tacos?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to apologise for how long it took me to get this chapter out, life decided to take a turn for the worst and writing was so far down on my list of priorities that I don't even think it made the list. Things are getting back on track now though, so I will be making an attempt to continue updating this series, along with other things. And thank you all for the reviews and kudos, that was a huge motivator for me to get back on track with this and I do not regret doing so at all. 
> 
> All in all I do hope that this chapter is enjoyable to read :)

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Aunt May was like, incredibly OOC, and it was really hard to write her like this, but eh, oh well.  
> This story is going to be three chapters, and it's also the start of a series I'll be doing.


End file.
